


Broken Hearts and Burned Down Bridges

by sophie_448



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Angsty but hopeful, Canon Compliant, Gen, M/M, i just have a lot of feelings, whatever that means
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 02:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5568052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophie_448/pseuds/sophie_448
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>I spoke to Liam about two weeks ago It was the first time I’d spoken to him since I left the band, and I rung him, and he wanted to talk. He said that he didn’t understand it at the time, but he now fully gets why I had to do what I did. He understands that it’s my thing, that I had to do that, and that basically he wants to meet up and sit down and have a good chat in person, and he wants to do some music and work on some stuff aside from being in the band, which we always wanted to do anyway.</i><br/>-Zayn Malik</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Hearts and Burned Down Bridges

**Author's Note:**

> Aha, so … I wrote a little fic thing? Apparently? First thing I’ve written in nearly 2 years NBD. It’s Ziam but also gen-ish? Their relationship isn’t specified anyway. This is my take on the phone call that Zayn talks about in the Fader interview.
> 
> Thanks to Maria ([yehwellwhatever](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/yehwellwhatever)) for inspiring me to just, like, try writing something down. Surprisingly it kinda worked :D Also thanks to sashayed on tumblr for her thoughts on Zayn being an unreliable narrator re: the Ziam phone call. 
> 
> Title from “Winter Coat” by Will Hoge. Not beta’d, not anything’d. All mistakes are my own.

Zayn stares at his phone. Unlocks it, goes to his contacts, locks it, unlocks it again. Liam’s number is pulled up on the screen. His thumb hovers over the call button. He locks the phone again, throws it on the bed. 

He scrapes a hand through his hair and blows out a breath, fed up with his own cowardice. He rolls up off the floor, grabs the phone, and dials before he can change his mind again. 

He almost hangs up while it’s ringing, but Liam will see his name on the caller ID anyway. He might as well see this through. 

The phone rings for a long time. Zayn’s sure it’s going to go to voicemail. Liam’s busy, of course. That’s life as an internationally famous boy bander, as Zayn knows all too well. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to talk to Zayn. Zayn wouldn’t blame him. 

“Hello,” Liam answers just when Zayn is about to give up. He sounds hesitant, almost formal. Zayn hasn’t heard that Liam in a long time, maybe ever. It steals his breath and he can’t answer for a minute. 

“Zayn?” Liam asks. 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me,” Zayn manages to force out. He doesn’t really have a follow up. There’s silence down the line again. 

“Did you – did you need something?” 

“I – not really,” Zayn says. “Just wanted to talk maybe?” It sounds like a question. 

Liam’s silent a long time. “All right,” he says. “What did you want to talk about?” There’s an edge of defensiveness in his tone. Zayn hates that he put that there. 

“How are you?” he tries. 

“Fine, I guess.” Liam pauses. “What do you want me to say, Zayn?” 

Zayn pinches the bridge of his nose. “Nothing, nothing. I don’t know.” He tries to think of something, anything so Liam won’t hang up, won’t go now that he’s got him. “The new single’s sick, man.” 

“Thanks,” Liam says quickly, like a reflex. Then softer, “You don’t really mean that, though.” 

“I do,” Zayn counters. He sighs and tries to think of a way to explain. He didn’t have the words all those months ago, not that made them understand, anyway. “I can like it even if I don’t think it’s right for me,” he says finally. “It’s right for you, and it shows.” 

“Okay. Okay, thanks.” Silence again. “Why did you call, Zayn?” Liam asks after a long moment. 

Liam’s patience is almost gone. Zayn can tell. “Miss you,” he says, so soft he wouldn’t be sure Liam heard if there wasn’t a gasp on the other end of the line. 

“That’s not fair.” Liam’s on the edge of crying. Zayn can hear it in his voice. It’s awful knowing someone this well. “You’re the one who left.” 

“I know.” Zayn can feel his throat tightening too. “I didn’t – I left the band. I didn’t mean to leave you. Any of you.” 

“It’s the same thing,” Liam says, sucking in a shaky breath. 

“It isn’t,” Zayn says, but he doesn’t know how to explain the difference. Maybe there is no difference. Maybe he’s full of shit. 

“How is it different?” Liam asks. “You’re not here. This is the first I’ve heard from you since – since. You know.” 

“I needed some time.” 

“Yeah, well, some of us didn’t get that luxury.” Liam sounds harder now. It’s not a tone Zayn’s ever heard directed at him. It’s so unfair that it finally pushes him into actually talking. 

“That’s exactly what I mean, though! It wasn’t you. It wasn’t the boys. It was the motherfucking hamster wheel. The One Direction machine. I just couldn’t do that anymore. Not when I didn’t really believe in it.” Liam doesn’t say anything for a minute. “Li?” 

“I just always thought you felt the same as the rest of us,” he answers. “Sure, it’s a bit mad at times, a bit silly. But mostly good. Like, more good than any of us deserve.” A pause, then quieter, “I wish you’d said.” 

Zayn doesn’t say he tried. Every time they were recording and he had to do take after take until it didn’t really sound like him anymore. Every time he tried to suggest a line or a melody and got shot down because “that’s cool, yeah, but it doesn’t really fit with the sound we’re going for. Maybe next time, yeah?” But next time never came. He didn’t know how to say it louder, and they weren’t listening hard enough. Or maybe they just didn’t want to hear. He takes a breath. 

“Listen, Li, I’m not sorry I left the band, and I won't say I am. It was what I had to do. But I didn’t ever want to hurt you. And I am sorry for that.” 

“Okay,” Liam says after a minute. “Thanks for that. It – it doesn’t really change anything, but. Thanks.” 

Zayn guesses he can’t really expect more than that. When he doesn’t say anything for a while, Liam speaks up again. 

“Listen, it was good to speak to you, but I have to –“ 

“Wait,” Zayn interrupts. 

“What is it?” 

“Do you want to, like – maybe we could meet up sometime. Next time we’re both in London. Maybe write something just for fun. Just for us. Like we talked about.” Zayn pauses, biting his lip. “If you want.” 

“I –“ Liam starts. “Yeah, I’d like that.” He sounds uncertain, but he said yes. Zayn feels the tightness in his chest loosen for the first time since he picked up the phone. 

“Okay. Okay, great.” He says. “Um, I’ll just let you go then. I guess.” He doesn’t want to. He never wants to let Liam go. But he can’t think of anything else to say to keep him on the line. 

“Yeah, okay.” Zayn thinks he’s hung up then, but after a second he says, “Hey, Zayn?” 

“Yeah?” Zayn says, pulse speeding up. 

“Missed you too.” 

Then he’s gone. Zayn pulls the phone away from his ear and stares at it for a minute. It’s not fixed, he knows. But it feels like it might be. He’s willing to try anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [tumblr](http://ifshehadwings.tumblr.com)


End file.
